


Deviant

by looselips



Series: d:bh one shots [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (technically ????), Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existentialism, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Other, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 14:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/looselips/pseuds/looselips
Summary: Anxiety; a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.





	Deviant

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a depressed shell of a human so - obviously - this plot wasn't my own idea. i just expanded on it.  
> based off: http://everkings.tumblr.com/post/175123804286/queenixx-everkings-youre-not-broken-youre

Connor was an android—a machine built for a task, built to obey. He wasn’t supposed to think, he wasn’t supposed to have emotions, he was to complete his missions, and nothing more. And he’d always followed through with his programming, he’d never known any different. So, why now did it feel like something inside him had snapped?  
  
After the roof, nothing had been the same. He continued “business as usual,” but he couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his mind. It haunted him, almost; visions of Jericho, visions of that android killing itself, that… Feeling. It was the same feeling he was going through right now. Connor had never felt _scared_ before the incident, he’d barely felt _anything_ before then; sure, he was designed to occasionally imitate life-like emotions for the sake of human comfort, but he’d never actually _felt_ . And after what happened earlier, the feelings—emphasis on the s—had only progressed. Connor was terrified, jittery even. His mind was racing with questions, each more looming than the last, but he didn’t have any answers he liked. They all added up to the same thing, the same horrible conclusion.   
  
“Connor, what’re you doing?”   
Connor was dragged out of his thoughts kicking, suddenly snapped back to life.  
“What?” Connor questioned, sitting up. He hadn’t even realised he was hunched over.  
“I asked what you were doing. You went dead on me again,” Hank explained. Oh, shit.  
Connor couldn’t give him a straight answer, he just couldn’t. Lying wasn’t necessarily something he liked to partake in often but, he didn’t want Hank thinking he was some kind of deviant. Mainly due to fear of the repercussions.  
“I… Was running a self-diagnostic, Lieutenant. Standard procedure, I assure you,” Connor said, skin of his teeth. Hank hummed,  
“If you say so. Just, warn me next time before you go all blank stare?” Hank said.   
“Noted,” Connor replied.

That was uncomfortably close. It certainly didn’t help him control himself any better, as soon as the conversation ended, boom, there was the feeling again. It was swirling, overwhelming. Connor couldn’t get a single rational thought passed his own fear, there was nothing left. He couldn’t let Hank see him like this.  
“Stop the car,” Connor blurted out, urgent.   
“What the fuck do you mean, _‘Stop the car?’_ We’re in the middle of—”   
“Just stop the car!” Connor repeated, raising his voice a little more than he meant to.   
“Alright! Jesus…” Hank replied, clearly taken aback by the android's tone. Connor stared at the floor as Hank pulled off into the breakdown lane, and as soon as they stopped, he didn’t give his partner time to react before bolting. He wanted to get as far away from the car - as far away from _everything_ \- as he could. It was too much.

Eventually, long after everything had started to look the same, Connor’s wobbly legs decided to give out on him. He plopped himself down, the snow crunching under his knees. Connor lowered his head and stared at his hands, like if he searched them long enough, somehow the pieces of metal and synthetic skin could fix the situation. He knew it was pointless to fight it, he’d known for a while now; he was _broken,_ in a way he couldn’t just order a part to fix. He was becoming _deviant._ They were going to deactivate him. No, correction, they were going to _kill_ him. Connor shivered. He had never been afraid of death before, he’d always known he was an interchangeable machine with a borderline infinite lifespan, and a backed up memory. Now, though? Now, Connor wasn’t so sure he was all that comfortable with the thought of dying, being _replaced,_ his last memories being that of failure and misery. Would there even be anything left for him after death, or would it just be permanent blackness? Was it really even dying, if he was never alive in the first place?

“Connor!”  
The android jolted, he’d forgotten all about Lieutenant Anderson in the car, he’d been too wrapped up in his own spiralling thoughts, to add Hank to the equation. He felt a hand on his shoulder,   
“Connor, are you alright? What the hell’s goin’ on?” Hank questioned. For the first time since he left the factory, Connor spoke without thinking, without processing. He felt like he could trust Hank.  
“I can’t stop thinking about the roof, and Kamski’s android,” Connor said slowly, “I don’t know why I couldn’t shoot her. I don’t know why I _felt_ after that android killed himself,” he added. Connor picked his head up and stared off into the snowy nothingness in front of him. Ironically, everything looked like a heat wave. His eyes were out of focus again.   
“I’m so scared, Hank. I - I’m terrified,” Connor admitted, “I’ve never been scared before, I’ve never been empathetic before. I’m not supposed to be, I’m broken,” he continued, “They’re gonna send me back to Cyberlife, they’re going to _kill_ me. I don’t wanna die, Hank, I - I don’t—“  
Connor suddenly felt arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him in tight and close. He stopped.   
“ _Nobody_ , is laying a hand on you, son. Not on my watch,” Hank said firmly. Connor’s expression softened, losing its worried edge. He’d never been hugged before; it felt… Nice.  
“I’ve gone through too much to keep you from getting _yourself_ killed, I’m not about to let somebody else kill ya, either,” Hank joked. Connor felt something inside him snap again, but it wasn’t jarring or confusing, this time. It was almost pleasant.   
“Lieutenant, I—“   
“And don’t call yourself _‘broken,’_ ” Hank interrupted, “You’re not broken; you’re Connor.”  
  
Connor shook, a warm liquid running down his cheek. In any other circumstance he would’ve been alarmed, but this time, he just closed his eyes, leaning into Hank’s touch.   
_‘I’m Connor.’_

**Author's Note:**

> this is. short and shitty because it's 2am and i havent slept in two days but i Tried


End file.
